


Endless Nights at Freddy's

by Animatronic_Bunny



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animatronic_Bunny/pseuds/Animatronic_Bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To work at Freddy's for longer would mean he wouldn't be short on cash every week. To work at Freddy's full time would solve all of his problems.<br/>But, then again, there were the animatronics. Oh boy." </p><p>Mike Schmidt thinks the terror is over, but when he is called back to work as a permanent night guard at Fazbear's Pizzeria, things just get worse. Rated for gore and horror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Back Mike

"Hello, am I speaking to a mister Michael Schmidt?"

The lump in Mikes throat made itself present at the familiarity of the voice on the other end of the phone, as the security guard took his thumb into his collar and wiggled the tie around to loosen it so he could forcefully swallow the nervous lump down. It wouldn't do him any good to stutter on the phone, especially with someone like this.

"Speaking."

"Ah, hello Mike. As you may recall, I am the owner of Fazbears Pizzeria, and upon inspection regarding your service as the security guard for the past six nights this week, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions of sorts. Rather, an interview, I suppose. Though we've already covered that for your parttime work, haven't we?"

"Yes, sir. Is there a problem? Did I leave something on?" That question was utterly ridiculous and Mike knew it as he grappled the phone clumsily in his sweaty palm. There, literally, was nothing to leave on at 'work'. The power was usually drained by the time he'd finished his shift, so to have any amount of power after his shift ended was a miracle. A miracle he'd never seen, to be told. But now the owner was talking again and Mike butted the ridiculous questions out of his mind.

"Oh, no no no, nothing like that. Quite the opposite, actually, in regards to the idea of their being a problem. Naturally, we at Fazbears tend to have a rather... difficult time in getting employees to take the night shift-"

Mike knew instantly why that was such a problem. Not only had he had to endure nearly a whole week of the night shift himself, but the person that had given him advice - whom he'd sadly never got the chance to actually meet - had had a... rather unfortunate end on the other end of the phone. Freddy, undoubtedly, was the cause, but Mike had never plucked up the courage to do as asked and see the suits behind the stage. He was, frankly, terrified he'd find the others eyeballs and teeth or something.

Then he remembered the owner was still talking.

"--And so with funding, as well as the problem of getting customers to eat here due to the variety of staff vanishing or quitting and spreading rumors about our animatronic performers, we would like to hire you as our fulltime security guard working the night shift. Of course, you'd recieve a pay rise, and you'd be welcome to work extra time for overtime money. Does that sound like something you'd like to consider?"

Mike took this moment to glance around the room. Stuck in an apartment, with nothing more than his few possessions, and his wallet biting at any money it could latch onto. It was the reason why he'd turned to the pizzeria. He'd figured that, at $120 a week, he should be able to pay the rent and get a little shopping. He wasn't too fussed about televisions or computers. Just keeping his phone and his books, and occasionally treating himself to a new novel. 

To work at Freddys for longer would mean he wouldn't be short on cash every week. It would mean he wouldn't have to worry about not having enough, or worrying about getting evicted from his apartment. To work at Freddys for full time would solve all of his problems.

But, then again, there were the animatronics.

He had handled them for six days, sure, but every week for months, years, would be hard. They were constantly trying to get at him, and he knew that one of those days could be his last. But what was there to lose? He'd figured out their routine, he'd danced around their traps to get him, and he'd even figured out that Freddy was constantly watching him. 

Again, nothing to lose.

"It is certainly something I'd like to consider," Mike said slowly, trying not to well up fear at the thought. 

"Excellent, though I will have to warn you that if the pizzeria stops rolling in customers, like it has been as of recent, it's likely that the pizzeria will be shut down by the end of the year."

"What about the animatronics?" Mike asked quickly after.

"The animatronics?"

"If the place shuts down, sir," Mike saved himself, turning to sit down and glance across the room. The idea of the animatronics wandering the streets ran shivers down his spine. He thought of the little kids, marvelling at them... running up to them... and the animatronics, mistaking them---

"Oh, I suppose that the metal will be melted down and reused for something else. Or they'll simply be shut down," the owner replied, as though unfazed by the idea his animatronics were borderline psychopathic, "Anyway, I'll see you on Monday, Mike. Be there early so I can fill in the forms before your shift, alright? See you soon."

Click.

Oh Mike, what have you gotten yourself into, came that last, trailing thought.


	2. Daytime Detective

Mikes plan of action before he went into the Pizzeria on Monday was quite simple. He had contemplated the idea of saying goodbye to everyone, but that would just be odd, so he left it at a blunt end when it came to preparing his family for his inevitable vanishing. No, his plan of action wasn't to face the death he'd surely come to at the Pizzeria, but to investigate. He couldn't do that at night, with Bonnie and Chica dwelling the halls so frequently it was a wonder they ever left, but during the day, when people were there, it was a chance.

The only problem was that, firstly, he didn't have much of a reason to be there on a Saturday afternoon, and his other problem was that it was highly unlikely anyone would let him look around. The stage and kitchen would be open, perhaps, but everywhere else, especially the cove, would be out of bounds. 

Mike wondered, as he walked down the sidewalk towards the Pizzeria, if he'd ever been taken there as a child. Certainly it was open when he was born, for he was a young man and the Pizzeria was old, which explained the lack of power and the constant animatronic part changes due to the paint wearing away. He couldn't remember if he'd ever had a party there, or if he'd just been with his parents. It was hard to imagine it after being almost killed by the animatronics. But kids... they were so comfortable with them. It was weird to see kids enjoying the animatronics rather than being terrified.

Mike reached the Pizzeria, and opened the door, hearing the little jingle of the bell. A jingle that sounded too much like the Toreador March for his liking, and so he distanced himself from it to not hear the ringing much longer.

The room was full of children, sitting on chairs, the floor, watching the band play. Obviously the pizza hadn't been served yet, so Mike didn't have a chance to look at the animatronics closer. But it was an odd sight to see them so docile and not getting worked up over endoskeletons. The music, if a little strained at the speakers, was almost charming, as though it were just a childs party.  
Mike kept back, walking around a little further to get closer to the corner of the stage. He stationed himself closer to Bonnie, glancing up at the animatronic rabbit as its hand dipped down and up on the guitar, 'strumming' it to the music, jaw clicking open and shut as though singing along with Freddy and Chica. Comparing this Bonnie to the Bonnie that stationed itself outside the office door for hours at a time was almost impossible. With Freddy and Chica, moreso, though they didn't show up as often.

Freddy himself looked almost harmless in comparison. While inactive the first nights, Freddy was petrifying on the last two nights of the week, and so to see him almost merrily singing into the microphone was almost a shocking transition. 

And then, Mike saw it. Clutched in Chicas hand, the cupcake that so often sat on his desk in the office. Was it always in the chicks hand? Or was it removed at night? Who removed it? The whole idea of having the cupcake on his desk made him weary, and he decided that it would be best to just.. move it out of his sight when he started his shift.

Foxy, naturally, was absent - back in Pirates Cove, which was out of bounds. Fortunately, the chime for pizza rang out, and the children dispersed into the dining area, leaving Mike alone with the animatronics. Mike, took his chance, and stepped up infront of Bonnie, edging his way across until he stood infront of Freddy.

The stench was definitely there. They'd obviously tried to cover the stench up with other scents, but the sickening smell of mucus and rotting wafted from Freddys eyesockets and mouth in particular due to how close he was. Mike managed to shove down the urge to be sick, and, out of curiosity, carefully reached out.

Almost instantly, as though in coincidence, Freddy turned his head, snapping his jaw as he continued to sing, despite the lack of children in the room, and Mike wrenched his hand back. Thats when he heard the voice behind him.

"Didn't you read the rules, Michael? No touching Freddy. Wouldn't want a repeated incident, would we?" The owner was standing behind him, and Mike instantly stepped off of the stage sheepishly.

"Sorry, sir. I was just looking at them. Its different seeing them in person than on the cameras," Mike replied, scratching the back of his neck. The owner chuckled and pat him on the back a little too hard.

"That it is. They don't move durin' the day, thats the most difference. Of course, the rules still stand, Schmidt. Don't touch Freddy." The owner pat him again, and turned to move off.

"Wait!" Mike suddenly said, stepping to follow him, "Sir, I was wondering if I could..."

"Yes, Schmidt?" The owner replied, turning to look at the night guard once again with an eyebrow arched curiously.

"I was wondering, If I could possibly look around a bit more. Get to know the place a little better, you know, just in case of emergencies.." Mike attempted, not able to produce an excuse to get a good look around and so relying on his absent trailing mind to save him from the embarassment he'd get.

The owner considered, before slowly nodding his head, "Alright, but no meddling with anything. Since you're here, we could sort out the paperwork now, so meet me in the office when you're done. Careful, though - there is a party going on, as you can see, and it would be better if it wasn't disrupted. This is one of the biggest parties we've had recently, and one of the only ones, as a matter of fact." And with that, the owner turned and slipped between the few parents standing around now, vanishing in the direction of the office.

Mike turned to look at the stage one last time, and froze, a single shiver trailing down his spine.

Freddy was looking at him.

Quickly, as though fearful of the bear even though it was daytime, Mike moved off and down the hallway, trying to get through the dining hall with the amounts of children walking around and sitting down to eat their pizza. His nerves were on edge and he'd sooner check on Foxy before anything else, because the paranoia that the fox would be on the watch for him was still present just as much as the fear for the three stagebound animatronics.

Pirates Cove in person was... dusty. Dusty alone could explain it. The floor hadn't been washed with a mop in a long time, and the sign infront of the curtains was fading slightly. Since Pirates Cove had been closed off in 1987, the sign had been there for a while without being repainted. 

The only noticeable marks in the dust were the areas on the curtains partings where something had wiped dust off in small streaks, and the footprints on the floor that were quick and barely parted. Clearly Foxys stunt at slowly approaching was nothing short of rubbish. The foxes footprints indicated he'd been sprinting right away. 

Mike reached out for the curtain, hesitant, before slowly drawing one back and peering in, holding his breath. Foxy could be up on the other side of the curtain, hook at the ready... As soon as he could peer in, Foxy could tear his face open in slashes, muffle him down... The fear was unbelieveable.

As it was, Foxy was sitting on the coves treasure chest, tilted slightly to the side, head drooped and jaw hanging open, as though he'd been dropped into a sitting position from a high place. He was shut down, clearly, which clicked realisation into Mikes mind about the animatronic fox. Foxy was shut down in the daytime to prevent him moving at all... which meant at night, he had more energy than the other animatronics, who were active in the day despite not moving. 

Which explained why the fox could tear its way down the corridor at full speed like that.

Mike paused, before slipping his arm between the curtains towards the fox. The owner had told him not to meddle, but he was curious, and curiosity was something that could rarely be tamed.  
Mike hadn't heard much about "The Bite", but the story he knew well enough. Foxy biting off some kids frontal lobe or something. Mike had, in his idle sessions in the office between relentless bunny assaults and static screens, thought about how it was possible. Back then, and even now up close, Foxys teeth seemed.. run down. Blunt. Almost as flat as the others. But then again, he'd been left here to rust, hadn't he? 

Mike retracted his arm and slipped back out of the cove, having seen enough of Foxy and gotten the reassurance that the animatronic fox was not about to attack from behind like he did during the night. With all the animatronics stationed, he turned instead to looking at the clippings on the walls, decorated. Awards, the opening ceremony... The opening of the Cove, the presentations... Special offers... All of them seemed relatively normal.

Until he got to the end, where a larger clipping hung.

'Local Pizzeria threatened with shutdown over sanitation.'

Mike stopped to read it, one eyebrow quirked up curiously. This was certainly different to the previous ones.

'Local pizzeria, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza has been threatened again with shutdown by the health department over reports of a foul odor coming from the much loved animal mascots. Police were contacted when parents reportedly noticed what appeared to be blood and mucus around the eyes and mouths of the mascots. One parent likened them to “reanimated carcasses".'

So he had seen - and smelt - right. There was definitely something up with the animatronics. Could the blood and mucus be from the tales of those kidnappings of those children? Were they inside the suits? Impossible. They'd have decayed by now, and anyway, it would be hard to get a child inside the costumes with the endoskeletons inside of them. Unless... 

Mike was about to turn back to the stage, struck by a thought, when he actually stopped and rethought his actions. Was he about to go backstage and uncover dead bodies? At the place he was hoping to work? No, he couldn't. They wouldn't be there, anyway, since they'd have decayed. And he'd surely get fired for even looking. He'd never seen them on camera, either...

With a sigh, Mike turned to the office to get on with signing the documents. He made sure to doubleback on his route to pass the show stage, glancing at the three still on the stage playing their music.

Freddy was still watching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Mike, if only you knew.
> 
> I hope you like it so far, Its actually fun to write Mike out. I picture him rather cowardly, since the 7th night does imply it.


	3. A Really Stupid Plan

Mike stood outside the Pizzeria. It was Monday night, an hour before his shift began. He only held a bag with his uniform in it, having been told by the owner not to bother giving the lent uniform back since it fit Mike well and would do for his official uniform. Other than his clothes, he was empty handed - no means of defense, completely and utterly at the mercy of the animatronics.

No, not entirely. He had some controls, at least.

Rest easy, Mike, he told himself, Its just another night. You've done this six times already. You can do this. Just keep to the routine, and you'll be okay..

Mike pushed open the door, quickly walking down the hall and through the dining hall to get away from the Toreador chime. The stage was curtained off, which alone sent shivers coursing through Mikes body, and to know that one of his murderers could be behind it was terrifying to know.

He'd sooner be at the mercy of losing his frontal lobe like that kid did. At least the kid didn't have to be forced into a suit, or have an endoskeleton shoved into him. They both sounded far more painful. At least losing the frontal lobe was quick in death.

Except for the kid, at least.

Mike almost bumped into the owner as he passed him in the corridor, startling almost instantly with the paranoia that was planted in his mind and blood and wasn't about to leave anytime soon.

"Ah! There you are, Mike. I'll assume you're ready?" The owner asked almost cheerily, slugging his coat over his shoulder. Mike held back the reply that he most certainly was not ready to face Freddy and his goons, and simply nodded his head. And then spoke out loud because of the darkness.

"Yes sir."

"Grand. I've fixed up the power for you, so it'll automatically come on at 12am when the animatronics begin to wake up, so to speak. Excuse the darkness until then, its hard to get enough power nowadays, and its easier to run the place without power a little before Freddy wakes up. I'll be seeing you tomorrow morning, Schmidt." The owner dropped the coat into his hand and shrugged it on properly, fiddling with the buttons as he turned to walk out of the pizzeria into the moonlight encased street.

"See you tomorrow.. hopefully," Mike muttered, turning back to the corridor and trailing his way down the memorized route to the restrooms. A few hours, and the animatronics would be standing where he was. It was only when he was getting changed into his uniform that he wondered what would happen tonight. Surely the animatronics would expect a new guard? Freddy especially. Would Freddy still be inactive, or would he recognise him and instantly move around?

The lack of knowledge of Freddys motives for tonight alone were terrifying enough. Add that to the general fear of being hunted by animatronics, the teleporting animatronic bunny, the sprinting fox that got hissy when he wasn't looked at, and the chick that endlessly stared at him through a window, and it was enough horror to be almost akin to a horror game.

A game Mike himself certainly would not play. He was already terrified of this hide-and-go-seek game he was playing with the animatronics.

Adjusting his hat, Mike departed from the restroom and made his way towards the Office, glancing at his watch again. He had fifteen minutes before the power came on, and the game really did start. He remembered that he had to move that cupcake when he got in there, because the idea of having a cupcake that had sat on a mucus and bloodfilled animatronics hand was enough to make his stomach churn. 

Sure enough, he found that stuffing the cupcake in a drawer was the best option, though he made numerous disgusted noises at having to touch it. Sure, Chica hadn't put it near her mouth or eyes or anything, but just knowing was horrible. 

And then it was stationary.

Sit in the chair.

Pick up the camera.

Wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Mike frowned, checking his watch. One minute past twelve. Where was the power? Surely it would come on? Fear flooded into his mind at the sudden thought of Freddy knowing, just knowing it was him, and cutting the power off deliberately. Freddy, removing Mikes only safety, his only comfort blanket, his only means of survival, so the animatronics could get at him.

Mike had worked himself up enough to almost be physically sick with fright when the light clicked on, buzzing a little with the strained effort. Relief replaced the waves of fear and Mike slumped back in his chair, fiddling with the camera to flick between the rooms. To think he'd been in most of these rooms today, it was so weird. Seeing the halls where he'd read the clippings, the stage where he'd watched Freddy, Bonnie and Chica play their music. Seeing Pirate Cove, where he'd seen Foxy helplessly rusting in the corner. 

No one was helpless tonight, except him.

But, now with the comfort of power and a smooth night, Mike sat back confidently in his chair and waited for the signs to start showing. And thats when it hit him - what made tonight so different to the other nights. 

No one was calling him. 

The phone guy wasn't there, and Freddy wasn't calling him either. There was no other voice filling the room as it had before, and that dropped the feeling of loneliness down like a weight on Mike. Oh, what it would be to have company, some reassurance through this terror. Sure, someone else would be at risk, but facing this together would be more calming than sitting through it alone.

And, really, six hours alone was very lonely.

At the end of this night, he had no hope of escape from the job. Where before he had looked at the end of the week as his freedom, he would be sitting in this chair, night after night for months on end. When it would end would be when the pizzeria shut down or when one of the animatronics got him.

Light footsteps came through one of the doors, causing Mike to almost drop the camera and lunge for the light. He need'nt have bothered with turning it on - the light footsteps could only be Bonnie, since Foxy was still in his cove, and Chica and Freddy were both heavier animatronics than Bonnie was. Sure enough, the light caught the animatronic rabbit out, the vacant stare in the bowtied bunnies eyes at it stared Mike down. As soon as that light went out, Bonnie would pounce if Mike hadn't closed the door. And, with already active awareness, Mike closed the door on the bunny instantly, leaving Bonnie stuck outside.

With Bonnie, and Chica, it was smooth sailing in dealing with them. Whenever he caught them in the light - or in the window, for Chicas sake - he knew that closing the door would prevent their entry. It was a different story with Freddy and Foxy, who were at most times unpredictable.

Mike slid the door open as soon as he saw Bonnies shadow vanish, and he sat back, sighing softly. It was the same thing - would he be like this every night? The same thing, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. No way of passing the time, no distractions, just closing and opening doors, turning lights on and off. 

It was during these idle door fiddlings and light clickings that Mike submerged into thought about the animatronics. From night one, they'd known he was there - but how? They didn't have cameras, and yet they knew he was there because they willingly stared into the cameras, they came charging for him, screeching for his lack of costume. Did they predict it? But surely they didn't know a thing about day, night, human, robot. 

And thats when it hit him. They knew he was there because they knew that when they were on free roaming mode, SOMEONE had to be in the office. There had always been someone in the office. Someone who they blamed for their misfortune of lack of movement. Someone who had the power, and who limited it. 

It was a baiting game. That was why so many people had vanished. Because they baited security guards and simply replaced them. Mike didn't know why it had taken him so long to realise, but now that he did, he knew that it was the room that was their target. He was an extra. 

What would they do if he wasn't there? Did they wait? Did they keep hunting?

Restrictions in his contract said - no, ORDERED - that he didn't leave the office, but Mike was a curious guy. Curiosity had landed him the job, and curiosity had carried him out the other side. 

On the other hand, leaving the office to run into one of the animatronics would be certain death. He'd have to hide where he knew they wouldn't look instantly. None of the rooms that were clearly visible. The kitchen was out of question because Chica dwelled there so often that hiding there would be basically putting himself on a dinner plate for the chick and saying 'Here you go, I'm making myself obvious bait'. 

Mike checked the hall outside. Bonnie wasn't present, and upon further inspection, he found Bonnie in the dining hall again. Chica was absent too, but it was hardly out of the question that Chica was in the kitchen. Mike had to take the risk. To try it out.

It would be a strategy that even Freddy wouldn't be ready for. And Mike knew exactly where to go.

Ducking out of the left door and carrying the camera with him, Mike crept his way down the hall silently, knowing that if he kept his eyes on Bonnie, the bunny wouldn't ruin his route. He'd left his jacket and hat behind, settled on the chair neatly so that the metallic chair made enough of a decoy. The fact he'd be checking the cameras too would also be convincing enough, he figured. They knew he would be doing it, anyway. If the cameras weren't active, they'd know theres no bait. Previous inspection told him that Foxy was also not currently active, still concealled behind his curtain, and so Mike took it upon himself to creep into the room. 

Pirates Cove looked as abandoned as it was in the daytime, though Mike knew that an active fox was definitely behind that curtain. It was a fairly simple plan - undoubtedly a stupid one if it didn't go as he hoped. Mike made his way around the curve of the curtain, careful not to make any noise so that Foxy would hear and charge for him. Since Pirates Cove was abandoned, most of the parts that weren't relevant to the animatronics were discarded in it. And Mike settled himself comfortable among the parts, knowing that he was at the wall, out of sight of Foxy should the fox poke his head out. And if Mike played his cards right, Foxy wouldn't even do that.

This would be the most agonizing attempt, but it would be interesting to see if it worked. Mike made sure the camera was silent in its crackling before he flicked between Freddy and Foxy. He couldn't see himself in the camera either, so he felt comforted in safety. Bonnie and Chica wouldn't come in the cove, so he didn't need to worry about them. Freddy, however, was unpredictable, and so Mike took it upon himself to keep an eye on him as well as Foxy.

For a while, the going was good. The lack of need to close doors or turn on lights kept his power high, and he felt safe knowing that if Bonnie or Chica went towards the office, even if they went into the room they wouldn't find him - only his hat and jacket, settled on the chair to resemble someone sitting in it. A decoy of sorts, and they wouldn't have much fun stuffing it into anything. The only real threat he was faced with was Foxy himself, but from his camera, Foxy was still inactive.

It was nearly 5am when the trouble started. Mike had been drifting off a little in his comfort, flicking between the camera merrily, and abusing the frequency of checking on the cove in his confidence. It gave him a startle when he noticed Foxy was sticking his head out - not only on camera, but Mike could see the tip of the foxes snout sticking out between the curtain. Trying to hold his breath, Mike tried to keep calm, but his fear left him more reckless than usual, and it only got worse when Foxy kept moving as though on the way out of the Cove.

Hes going to sprint, I know it, Mike thought. He glanced at his watch briefly and mentally begged the little hand and big hand on the clock face to speed up.

Foxys entire upper torso was visible now, a crouch position. And it was so quick. One minute, the fox was poised, as motionless as he had been during the day, when his hook snagged the sign, spinning it around and into the open curtained cove. As soon as the hook let it go, Foxy was gone, sprinting. Mike wanted to scream into his sleeve with the fear he had of being discovered, and glanced at the camera screen, at the sign in the cove.

IT'S ME.

Mike went to deliberately swapped to the hall to let Foxy sprint down it, knowing the fox wouldn't find him, but then he thought; And then what?

Too late, he realised that upon returning, Foxy would see him. And in the stupidity of his terror, he sprung from his hiding place and sprinted down the hallway towards the safety of the office.

While scared the fox was infront of him, Mike was entirely unaware that Foxy had drawn himself out as he did when the hall wasn't on camera, and with how slow Mike had gone to check, Foxy was, effectively, right behind him. Mike could clear the clacking of teeth and begged for his life in his head as he ran as fast as his feet could carry him. 

Come on, come on...

It was only now in the worst position that he realised that it had been a stupid idea to leave the post, and a wonder that the animatronics hadn't broken out in the process. But the thought left him quickly as the feet gained on him, and he held his breath for the end.

CLUNK.

Mike didn't stop running for the noise, until he realised footsteps were no longer following him. He slowed down to a halt, and slowly used his camera as a light to look behind him. Foxy had fallen, and was entirely motionless. Quickly, Mike checked his watch.

6am.

He'd made it.

Mikes previous wonders were confirmed when he returned, as his metal chair was no longer present. Bonnie or Chica had probably gotten to it, which meant that Mike now had to explain a missing chair and missing uniform. It was still amazing that they hadn't escaped. Perhaps they'd really fallen for it. 

But Freddy hadn't. He could already tell. And he most definitely was NOT trying that again.

Especially if it risked them breaking out.


	4. Disappearing Cupcakes

Luckily, before the owner could return, Mike had managed to locate the severely battered and twisted chair and prised it away from the animatronics who had shut down mid-stuffing it into a costume. Bonnie had obviously been the one to find it, and Chicas presence told him that she had stumbled across Bonnie trying to stuff it in and obviously tried to lend a hand. 

Carefully examining the chair, the legs of it were bent and twisted - not enough not to stand, but enough to show on the metal. Mike could only hope that the owner wouldn't find out that he'd used the chair to fool Bonnie and Chica. Something told him that if it had been Foxy or Freddy it wouldn't have been so easy fooling. 

Mike also felt sure that it wouldn't have worked without the uniform. The identical uniforms of security guards were enough now to probably convince the animatronics, and had he not been on the camera the animatronics would have noticed the lack of attention and found a way out.

And they'd have seen the camera gone, at least. That was enough to convince the animatronics that a security guard was loose. And surely some time a security guard had left the room, right? Especially if it came to the restroom.

All the same, it had been a stupid plan and Mike vowed never to try it again. It was a wonder it had worked once. Looked like he'd have to think of something else.

Mike had finished trying to cover up the chairs dents when he heard someone clearing their throat, making him startle and turn around. The owner was standing in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at Mike. Mike quickly got to his feet and dusted himself off.

"What on Earth were you doing down there, Schmidt?" The owner asked, tilting his head to the side. Behind him, Mike could see other employees trying to tow the fallen Foxy down the hall back to the cove. 

"I though I'd dropped my coat down there," Mike said quickly, hoping it would brush off the wonder about his lack of coat and hat. The owner simply made a tutting noise and held both hat and jacket out to him, handing them over to a mystified Mike. 

"They were found hanging on Bonnie. You didn't tamper with him, did you?" The owner asked suspiciously. That explained the look on his face, at least. Mike shook his head. 

"No sir, I must have dropped them and Bonnie found them. I'm surprised he didn't mistake them for me," He laughed nervously. No laugh came from the owner, who tutted and stood upright.

"Well, they are animatronics, Mike. While they do not have a brain like us, they are intelligent enough not to be fooled so easily. Now, where is that cupcake?" The owner turned to the desk, stopping when he saw the cupcake was missing.

"Oh, its in the drawer. I'm sorry, It was just-- nerving me, thats all," Mike stated quickly, edging his way around to reach for the drawer. However, when he pulled it open, it soon became clear that the cupcake was not in the drawer. Mike gaped at the empty drawer as another employee - one of the cooks, by clothing - ducked in.

"I heard you were looking for Chicas cupcake?" He asked, "She was holding it when we hauled her and Bonnie back to the stage. Strange how she got ahold of it, really."

"Very strange," The owner repeated, eyeing Mike suspiciously, who glanced at his feet, "Well, Schmidt, well done for lasting-- I mean, making it through the shift. You're dismissed, and I'll be seeing you again tonight. And remember, Schmidt - no touching. Don't touch Bonnie, Don't touch Chica, Don't touch--"

"Don't touch Freddy," Mike finished, shrugging his jacket and hat on, before picking up his bag of spare clothes, "I won't, sir. I'll keep my clothes close to me this time. As for the cupcake, I'm as mystified as you are."

-

Mike couldn't rest when he got home. He'd found a brief way to keep himself safe, but it risked way too many lives and it would not last forever. The fact that Bonnie and Chica had fallen for it had been one in a million chance, and he really didn't think it would work again.

Besides, Freddy wouldn't fall for it at all. Mike needed to think, and fast. It was morning, but he hadn't slept yet and when he woke up he'd be off to work just like that. 

He strained to remember what the phone guy had said back in the first nights. He held the key to the plan, somewhere. Sure, he hadn't survived, but a hint.. maybe something..

The messages on the first few nights wouldn't do him any good. They told him about the animatronics, and not ways to hide. But what about the costumes? What had the guy on the phone said?

"They'll most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since thats against the rules at Freddy's Fazbears pizza they'll probably forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit."

They thought of him as an endoskeleton... lacking a suit. A suit that was metal, like theres. But it was too simple to simply wear a fur costume, right? It was what he had said on the third night.

"If they think you are an empty costume instead they might shove an endoskeleton into you."

A fur costume would make him look floppy, loose, and definitely like an empty costume. So.. what about those costumes backstage?

The only problem would be that the animatronics would get confused seeing a double of themselves sitting in the office. Sure, he'd still be bait, but he wouldn't be at risk. He'd have to change it up, and again, set up a decoy. He'd be in the room with it, so they'd hear his breathing, his movements, and assume it was the decoy. That way they wouldn't break out, right? 

Mike had no idea if it would work. He strained his mind to think. Why would the animatronics break out? Would they see people without their costumes on? Why didn't they break out after they'd stuffed the security guard into the decoy? Was one enough? There were a lot of unanswered questions. The guy on the phone hadn't said anything about them breaking out, or trying to escape. A decoy could work. 

In the end, Mike sighed and collapsed on the couch, deciding to just grit his teeth through the night and ask the owner about it in the morning after the night. There was nothing preventing the animatronics breaking out after stuffing the security guard into the suit. It was illogical to assume. The security guard would have to keep the camera moving, keep them knowing he was there and easy bait, which Mike could do from the safety of a costume. 

It was so confusing and so much of a pain to think about that Mike all but gave up on trying to think it through, and dropped into a slumber filled with ghost children and rusting animatronics.


	5. Mikes Grand Plan

"Early, Schmidt?"

The owner looked torn between looking impressed and looking shocked - no security guard was ever this early to work, but here Mike was, already uniformed and looking a little more confident.

"I thought I'd get here early and take over earlier, if that's okay, sir. I'd just prefer to get comfortable after last nights- erm.. shenanigans," Mike replied, scratching the back of his neck. He had a small plan - one the side of a seed, but if he kept on at it, it would grow. Of course, he needed something in particular to make sure it worked. 

The owner considered it, still looking suspicious about the incident with the cupcake and the clothing, before slowly nodding his head, "Alright, I can hand it over early. ANYTHING goes wrong tonight, Schmidt, and you're fired. No vanishing cupcakes and no clothes strewn about, you hear?"

"Yes sir, I promise that it will be exactly as it is now - besides the animatronics being in the halls, of course, but I can move them back before you get here," Mike said quickly, glancing at the curtain of the show stage. The owner chuckled and gave Mike a pat on the shoulder.

"Well then, I'll wish you luck." And with that, the owner left the building, closing the door on the way out and leaving Mike alone in the room, where the bells Toreador March chime bounced off the walls around him.

Mikes plan was so stupidly simple it was a wonder no one else had thought of it. He'd even woken up to instantly make a list of what he could use to his advantage, and the little key notes about the animatronics too.

Firstly, he wrote in bold the advice the previous security guard had given to him on the phone during his part-time work. That was help enough - they'd stuff him into a suit if he moved, and stuff an endoskeleton into him if he didn't. 

There was also the case of the idea of one of them breaking out if he wasn't there, so he had to ensure he was there, but not vulnerable. Decoys wouldn't work, and the chair had only just saved his skin last time. Fur suits were out of the question, which left...

Mike had the reason to be there early. The animatronics wouldn't be active until power was on, and it was still early. He waited until the owner had left before creeping his way backstage. A coward at heart, but lion-like confidence came with the idea he had had. Making sure he was alone in the back room, he felt safe from the cameras because, as the owner had said, the power was out right now. He wouldn't be seen in video footage and the staff probably never bothered with it anyway other than at night during his shift. If anyone broke in, they'd be killed, wouldn't they?

Mike didn't have to look for long to find what he needed - a suit that hadn't been occupied by an endoskeleton - the kind of suit he'd be stuffed into if he were found. It was missing the head, which were neatly placed on the shelves in the room, so he didn't have to do much to open up the suits body.

There was a gap for the endoskeleton, but other then that, there were wires everywhere. Sharp points and electrical sockets that connected to the endoskeleton and made the animatronic move. 

Mikes plan was, as said previously, simple. When caught, the animatronics would presumably stuff him into one of these suits, mistaking him for an active endoskeleton. Looking at the inside, it would be painful going. So why not take the parts out that would cause injury and set up the suit just ready for them? When they found him and went to stuff him in, as he'd seen Bonnie and Chica doing with the chair, they would think they were putting an endoskeleton into a suit, when they'd just be settling Mike comfortably into a suit. Upon inspection, without the head, the suit could be opened up at the chest, the sockets for the endoskeletons legs leaving gaps. The animatronics wouldn't look for the wires, so he could pull plenty out and no one would be the wiser. And this was backstage, right? So no one would think that someone had vandallized the suit. Just the parts had been removed. They were short on money, so they'd have had to do that at some point. 

Mike knew that they'd likely stuff him into a Freddy suit more than any other character, so he found the most run down Freddy suit he could find, and began prising the wires out. With the power off, he wasn't in danger of electrocution, and though he was working in the dark, if he squinted enough it was easy to see.

His only fear would be that they'd push him into the wrong suit. So he'd have to carefully make sure that if he did get caught, he'd be pushed into the Freddy suit he'd cleaned out, not any other suit.

Trying to pull out the electronic parts of the suit was hard going, but since it was backstage where the suits were fixed, there were tools around to help him, and he had the time to fiddle. It wasn't graceful removal, just pull it out and push it aside.

The head, on the other hand, proved the difficult task. The endoskeletons mouth would show through the mask, so he could breathe well enough, but the head, unlike the suit, was more clammy and would probably break his nose if he put it on. Freddys snout wasn't hollowed out like it seemed to be, full of wires that controlled his moving jaw, so Mike spent the majority of his time trying to pry out the front parts of the jaw motion system so he could wear it and actually breathe. 

After an hour and a half - fifteen minutes before his shift began - Mike felt he had done as best as he could, and, carefully, he settled the complete suit on the table. He pushed the other suits out of sight and moved the endoskeletons back onto the table where they'd previously been. 

And then it was the trek back to the office.

Mikes confidence had faded, and he was, to put it bluntly, scared shitless. There was so many chances that it wouldn't work, that he'd die, but there was that small chance that maybe... just maybe.. it would. He felt if he still fought to live, maybe he wouldn't need his plan to go ahead. But it was a little reassuring to know that it was there just in case.

And then a cold thought flooded into his mind. What if they killed him before they stuffed him?

At least people would find him.

Oh god, he couldn't be caught.

From there on out, it was a quiet night - Quiet for all of the animatronics, even Bonnie and Chica, who constantly hounded the doors on any other night. Mike thought something was up, and constantly flicked back to the stage to peer at the three who were still motionless. Did something happen? Was it last nights antics that made them not want to come down to the Office?

Any other guard would have idled off in the relatively quiet night, but Mike grew more and more paranoid, switching between the Cove and Stage frequently. His power was dwindling, but he didn't care, too scared to even think straight. At one point, the fear did cave in and as he looked up to check the doors again he swore he hallucinated a suit infront of him, slumped broken on the floor, a rich golden bear. Freddy. A golden Freddy.

As soon as he saw that his blood started to well up and he thought he was going to pass out. The office grew too stuffy. The room spun. Mike kept seeing Golden Freddy everywhere. And it was all too much when he pulled up the camera to check again only to notice that, while Chica, Foxy and Bonnie were still in place, Freddy was not.

Room after room after room Mike tore through in search for the bear, but Freddy was nowhere in sight. Mike almost dropped the camera and frantically hammered at the lights to check outside the Office just in case. He was too terrified to even check the time, which would have greatly reassured him had he known how close he was to the end of his shift.

And then the power cut out. Mikes breathing practically stopped.

A face in the doorway, illuminated with a smile that simply could be read as 'GOT YOU'.

Blue eyes.

Toreador March.

Freddy.

Mikes head swum and he slumped, succumbing to the darkness and the animatronic as he dropped the camera and blacked out.


	6. Things Begin To Go Wrong

When Mike awoke from the cold realm of unconsciousness that he had been lingering in for what felt like hours, he was freezing. His hat had fallen off and his arms were stationed at his side the way that made it almost impossible to move. The air was tight around him and he struggled to breathe, squirming violently.

It was almost pitch black in his prison, for two small circular loops were shining in the faintest of lights. Mike couldn't see through the holes, and when he tried to move, it took a lot for him not to make a noise of pain as sharp spikes ran up his shoulders. His head was pounding with the force of a migrane and he felt ready to fall back into unconsciousness. The only thing keeping him conscious was his attempts to breathe.

Fumbling slowly, he found he could move his hand next to his thigh, where it had been jammed down, and cautiously, so as to not disturb the pained area of his arm, he reached out to try and find a way to push forward, too terrified to yell for help as he was still able to realise that the animatronics could still be mobile. 

His fingers wrapped around one of the holes and, ignoring how the metal slightly cut into his fingers, he pushed as hard as he could, gritting his teeth. Nothing happened then, but a slip of the hand sent his elbow shooting forward, hitting the cap of his elbow on the metal infront of him and making his arm go numb.

Almost instantly the metal infront of him slowly clicked open, and with the new freedom of one of his arms, he pushed it upwards and shoved at the underside of the container on his head, pushing it upwards so it unlatched and fell to the floor with a clatter. Mike froze at the noise, praying nothing heard it.

There was silence.

It was clear.

Able to breathe, he sucked in the air and drank down the oxygen as he returned his focus to his escape. Now that he had his vision back, it was obvious to see that he'd been jammed into the suit he'd been pulling about with, which had, to an extent, saved his life. But from the stabs of pain he felt, it hadn't worked very comfortably. The fault mainly had been that when he'd been stuffed inside, his arms hadn't slid into the arm sockets, meaning both of his arms were at his sides in the chest area.

It took work to get his other arm free, especially with the pain, but he took his time, aware he was still on his own and in no danger. It took even longer to try and step out of the leg frames, as they were as high as his upper thighs and didn't open at the front, and in the end it resorted to him having to sit down and slide backwards.

The entire suit was a wreck from his struggle to get free. The mask was laying on the floor and the whole shell of it was collapsed on the floor. If he tried, he could fix it up quickly, before the owner came in to find him, but the agonizing pain still in his body left him unable to do much more for the moment other than to catch his breath.

Curiously, he investigated where he felt the most pain, starting at his shoulders. Each of his shoulders had several cuts cascading down the shoulderblade, including one nasty gash on his left shoulder where one of the sockets had obviously pressed into it. It had bled through his uniform and Mike could only hope he could clean it out before he came back this evening. Hopefully his jacket would cover it up.

His knees were also in the same sort of state, where they'd caught the metal on the way down and skinned themselves right over the kneecap. They weren't feeling as painful as his shoulders, but naturally it would make itself known once the pain had stopped being numb. And beyond that...

Mike tested his feet. His right foot wiggled obediently, but his left foot tilted to one side and instantly sent a stab of pain coursing up his leg. Not broken - he wouldn't have gotten free otherwise - but definitely twisted or sprained. At least he could cover this up with an excuse, but why? Why couldn't he say to the owner what had happened and get medical costs?

Because they wouldn't believe him, and he needed the money. He'd only ever complain if he lost a limb or broke something. He couldn't afford to charge in there with cuts and bruises and demand that he get a medical payment. 

All he had to do was fix up the suit and he'd be fine, right?

Mike carefully got to his feet, right foot first, left foot after, using the table for support. His ankle didn't seem bothered by the motion except for the dull lingering pain that was now there constantly from moving it, and he hobbled his way over to the suit to try and pull it up so it wouldn't look suspicious to the owner. The mask was still laying scattered on the floor and he took a few minutes trying to work out how to fix the front back onto the back. Obviously if the endoskeletons face needed fixing the front of the mask flipped up, or clipped off, but it was horrible to try and fix back on. At least he knew he had a quick route to getting his breath back if he was caught again.

And then it was back to the Office, looking at his watch as he went. What seemed like hours of unconsciousness had actually not been long at all - the heaviness of the scares impact had obviously made his body utterly useless. It was nearly quarter-to-seven, and the workers and owner usually got in at seven. He'd been unconscious for just around an hour and a half. He could only thank the holes that he hadn't suffocated in that time. 

While on his way to the Office, he stopped by the show stage. Chica and Bonnie were still there, but Chica again was holding her cupcake, making Mike very confused. Chica hadn't been active, how had she gotten it again? Perhaps she had moved after he'd passed out. All the same, Mike leant over the stage to try and grab it, but it quickly became apparent that he'd have to climb up.

Ignoring the burn that came from his ankle, he hauled himself up next to the animatronic chick, reaching to pluck it from her hand triumphantly.

"I'll be taking this back now, Chica," He took the still bird cheerfully, as he, without a thought, jumped off of the stage and instantly regretted it. He settled to sit on the stage and cursed between his teeth as his ankle weeped pain. Even his knees and shoulders couldn't compare to this. 

He glanced at his watch again after sitting there for the moment, deciding that five minutes was too long to be sitting on the stage and that the sooner he got back to the Office the more time he'd have to rest his ankle. So, bravely taking larger steps, he hobbled back in the direction of the Office, not even bothering to check in on Pirates Cove as he passed.

The Office was exactly how it had been when he'd left it, power out and doors open. His hat was laying by the door, clearly having been knocked off when he was caught, and he quickly adjusted it back on his head. He put the cupcake back on the table and sat down, exhaling with relief at the night gone by.

It never occurred to him to check where Freddy was.

Mike had just finished pulling his jacket carefully over his shoulder wound when the Toreador March chime jingled, indicating the workers had come in. Mike stood up, ready to leave the place for the day, when he came face to face with Freddy outside his door. His breathing momentarily caught, close enough to see the mucus crust around Freddys eyes and the flecks of blood tattering his muzzle and jaw, and what seemed to be unmistakably a handprint on his eye. 

It was an awkward moment, but it concluded as soon as Mike realised Freddys power was off, causing him to sigh with relief.

How Freddy had gotten there without him noticing was odd, because when he'd left the stage and gone back to the office, he'd gone in through the left door, where Freddy was now standing. However, Freddy hadn't been there. So how was he here now?

Mike glanced at his watch, realising it was a few minutes until seven and that the jingle couldn't have been the workers arriving early. He tried to ignore the shivers running down his spine as he made a valiant effort to try and tow Freddy back to the stage. The bear was heavy and it was near impossible to pull him along with an injured ankle, but luckily it proved luck for Mike. The owner caught him pulling Freddy along and put two and two together.

"Well now, Mike, I know you're making up for the odd occurrences yesterday, but rest assured, the boys can take care of putting Freddy back. No need to sprain your ankle over him," He chuckled, leaning slightly on Freddy and causing Mike to stagger back onto his feet.

"Oh.. yeah, I must have tripped or caught my ankle when I was taking him back. I only noticed it starting hurting. Couldn't work out how I did it though.." Mike replied hastily, dusting his hands together.

"Well its not in your contract to pull them to places, Schmidt. Just keep an eye on them overnight and you're gold, alright? Keeping an eye on them is what is important, no matter where they end up."

"Sir," Mike said quickly, taking a step after the owner, who had turned to leave the animatronic to the stage workers, "I was wondering if I could stop by later."

"Stop by?" The owner repeated, looking at Mike as though he'd gone insane after the two nights. 

"Maybe something for me to do for overtime? I really need the money," Mike lied, though it wasn't a full, cold lie. He could use the money, but he really wanted to fix up the suit a little more. 

"Hm," the owner considered, scratching his cheek in thought, "Well, we have a few props that have, shall we say, withered away that need to be dumped in the storage in the Cove. They're a little heavy and you've obviously sprained yourself hauling Freddy around, but-"

"No problem," Mike replied instantly, feeling relieved that he was going to be at least assigned to an area where he wouldn't be disturbed. As scary as it was to be working in a room with Foxy present, at least the animatronic fox wouldn't be working, so it would be a chance to settle back and rest and fix up the suit a bit more. Obviously the metal was the main factor of the disguise. Fur was too floppy, too lose like skin. But metal was exactly what the animatronics wore, so perhaps it would work. 

"Just make sure you get enough sleep, I want you prime for your shift tonight. No dozing off," The owner stated, waving a finger at Mike before he vanished into the office. Mike instantly turned to leave Freddy to the stage workers and slipped into the kitchen.

It was empty since the cooks hadn't arrived yet, so he had the privacy of finding the first aid kit to make temporary bandages for his cuts. He couldn't afford to bleed through his clothes anymore, but he didn't open it there and then. He simply carried the first aid kit into the cove and sat down with it, fixing up the linen and wrapping it around his shoulderblades and knees, making sure the padding was fixed on the scratches. 

Feeling hopeful, and definitely better with the wounds semi-treated, Mike got to his feet, hobbling over to the curtain of the cove and hooking a finger into the parting. Confidence washed over him as he pulled it back and said triumphantly, "Another night done!"

Or so he would have said, had he not noticed something was wrong.

Something that turned his blood to ice.

Foxy was gone.


	7. Finding Foxy

Pirate Cove was completely and utterly wrecked. Perhaps it was the lack of being checked that sent Foxy into this sort of aggression, or maybe it wasn't. The chest that Foxy had been slumped on that weekend was overturned, padlock hanging off as the ridiculous plastic 'mountain of coins' balanced it up. While the curtains were intact, some of the other drapery in the Cove - such as the background and the typical Jolly Roger flag - were torn up slightly, undoubtedly by Foxys hook. 

An animatronic on a rampage was enough to make anyone paranoid, and Mike was no exception. With people in at work now, if they didn't find Foxy then Mike would be to blame, but what could he say? That he'd been stuffed into a suit and passed out on duty? He'd be fired for sure.

No, he had to find Foxy, and fast. The security guard closed the curtains quickly and hobbled across the room towards the door, pausing only when he reached it. 

To leave through this door would cause a lot of questions, but he always had the excuse of needing the restroom. Then again, saying that and then waltzing in the opposite direction would prove to be a waste of time. No, he had to be very quiet and hope no one noticed him. 

Mike pulled on the door very slightly, letting the sound of the rest of the pizzeria flow in through the crack of the door. He peered through the opening and looked back and forth down the corridor, frantically thinking of where Foxy could possibly be. He compiled his thoughts into a small list in his mind, trying to put the pieces together to figure out where the animatronic had gotten to.

For a start, Foxy only usually travelled down the west hall - the hall he'd just walked down, and Foxy was nowhere in sight then. Nor was Foxy in the office - he'd just left, surely the fox could have just teleported inside. But that only left the cove and he'd already checked the curtains. Foxy was being undoubtedly crafty.

With the other animatronics either in place or being returned to their place, it was clear they'd be powered down enough not to move. But during the day, they still maintained mobility, so they were less active at night. So surely that meant that whatever energy Foxy wasn't using in the day like the others was contributing to his speed at night, meaning he could sprint, while the others could merely move small distances at a time. 

Mike had also been unable to check the time before he'd been caught, so perhaps in the time he was stuffed, Foxy had noticed and made his way down to the office. Which meant that if Foxy failed to find him there, then...

Mike pulled the door open fully and limped out, making sure he was moving quietly so much as to make as little noise as he possibly could on the tiles. He could hear the clatter of dishes from across the restaraunt where the sound carried across the dining area, and redirected himself to avoid taking that route unless necessary, knowing that he was expected to be working. 

It was harder trying to walk with his ankle, but with occasional propping against the wall he covered some distance of the hall and reached the office door, which was open and had the irritating buzz of the office light. The little power left for the morning was keeping the office lit, meaning someone was either inside. So Mike paused and tilted his head enough to look in.

The office was empty. The light was definitely on, making Mike squint from where the cove had been dark, but no one was present to have turned it on. Perhaps the owner had left it on? Mike didn't know, but didn't really want to go around asking. He ducked into the office and looked around carefully for the telltale sign of an animatronic fox.

Nothing in particular stood out to him that was different than it was at night - except the fan was turned off and the cupcake was, obviously, back with Chica on the stage. No sign of Foxy, no sign of anything. Even the little cameras on his desk were blank, revealling nothing. 

Mike was really beginning to panic now - the three possible places that Foxy could be, but all of them empty? With the others there were so many places they could be, but Foxy was the least active when it came to areas. He was the kind to be back and forth so quickly it was like he'd never left.

Mike turned and hobbled his way back down the west corridor, heading carefully back to the cove in order to try and find out where the animatronic had gotten himself to. Luckily nobody had come down the corridor and so he was able to slide back through the door without gaining any attention. The last thing he would need is to be interrogated about what he was up to.

The first thing he did was pull the curtains back again, trying to will up the hope that Foxy had miraculously returned to the cove by himself, even though it was impossible with how loud Foxy was when he moved - the metal would have been noticable by anyone. But no, the cove was still empty, the gimick pirate setup still untouched. Even the sign was-

The sign.

Of course.

The damn sign.

Mike craned his neck back to look at the sign, and his hopes raised just a little bit. The sign was still intact - no 'ITS ME' to indicate that Foxy had left. The sign remained saying 'Out of Order', meaning surely that Foxy had never left this room. The dust on the floor was caked in his own footsteps now too so it didn't hold much help, but he knew that Foxy hadn't moved anywhere outside of the curtains. Unless he'd been moved by someone else.

Or something else.

The whole thing was mystifying to Mike, but with Foxy absent from the cove and with all the clues pointing to Foxy never leaving in the first place, it was growing obvious he'd been moved. So he sat on the treasure chest and thought about who could have moved a heavy animatronic fox so easily without getting mauled. After all, he'd heard that Foxy was responsible for that old story about some guys head getting gouged into by Foxys teeth to a point his brain was severed. 

Almost automatically, as though a switch had clicked in his head, Mike slowly stood up again, stumbling a bit with the accidental weight put onto his foot. But that evaporated as he moved even quicker to his destination, aware that people would be near there and the last thing he wanted was to be seen. His pace was brisk and he kept moving even when he heard nearby voices - stopping would put himself at risk.

The showstage, thankfully, was empty of people for now. It was a wonder since even though the animatronics were dirty and caked in fluids that people didn't even want to try questioning the identity of, people sometimes handled them to set them back up on the stage. For example, they gave Freddy his microphone, Chica her cupcake, and Bonnie his guitar. The looks of things told Mike that they'd already been set up in the time he'd been in the cove, so he didn't have to worry about anyone going where he was going.

Mike slid between the curtains on the stage, doing his best to avoid Freddy in the process since the bear was directly infront of the parting. And he saw something on the table backstage he was instantly relieved by.

There was Foxy, propped on the desk, head tilted forward and jaw hanging down loosely. He looked none the worse for his ordeal and it was a wonder he hadn't been noticed there before, especially since he'd been in here earlier breaking free. Then again he'd been preoccupied with escape, and anyway it was unlikely that Foxy was coincidentally there at that time, right? Perhaps he'd been moved here after. Mike didn't know. He didn't care. He just wanted to get the animatronic fox back to his cove and go back to doing some work. 

Then again... Mike turned to the suit he'd been fixing with earlier thoughtfully, approaching it slowly and examining it. While he was backstage, he could always continue pulling pieces out, correct? Then if anyone asked, he could say he was looking for Foxy. If he was working in the cove, then he'd obviously have the excuse to say that he had noticed Foxys absence. Sure, they'd be angry at him for looking, but it would be lucky he did.

So Mike preoccupied himself with pulling apart the extra suit, testing out if he fit into it this time by ducking a limb into the slots. In the legs and arms it was harder because they were the kind that couldn't be opened like doors, so he pulled out what he thought was necessary to be comfortable and dumped what he tugged out into spare parts crate he was supposed to be taking to the cove. The head was the easier part, as ducking his face in forwards gave him enough indication as to whether or not the mask would close up comfortably. He wouldn't have to worry if he got stuffed inside this time - except for his injuries from the first time, anyway. So much for medical insurance.

Mike was so absorbed in meddling with the suit that he jumped out of his skin when he heard a laugh that distinctly resembled a laugh from Freddy echoing from beyond the curtains. His skin trembled and his face paled from red to white to green, utterly chilled by the noise. It only took him a few seconds to realise that Freddy was powering up ready to entertain the children. How children could deal with the horrific suits was beyond Mike, but then again, the kids hadn't spent so many nights here with the looming and ongoing threat of death if he slacked.

It was lucky that Freddy drove him out of his fumbling of the suit, as the distraction was the exact moment that things began to change. Foxy, who was still immobile on the table, twitched an ear - a sharp movement, unrealistic in comparison to a real fox, but one that indicated that Foxy was still partly energized from the lack of activity last night. 

And then Foxy moved his head up and dropped his jaw, beginning to let out his horrifying screech. Mike quickly dropped what he was holding and ran over to the animatronic fox, shoving a fist into the foxes mouth and forcing the endoskeletons mouth closed. Only then did Mike realise the consequences of his mistake. Of why Foxy was closed off in the first place.

It was too late to move. Foxys lower jaw automatically came up as it often did in his biting motion, and the metal teeth that were partly rusted dug into Mikes wrist, slipping underneath the skin and forcing his wrist up to be penetrated on the upper teeth. His hand remained fixed on the endoskeletons teeth, but Mike almost fainted from the shock of the sudden turn of events. He could feel the teeth moving under his skin, sharply moving around and slicing into his veins like they were nothing, not yet deep enough to knock into bone but getting dangerously close. He had to get free before the rust dug in properly and he had a high infection chance from it.

But the pain was unbearable, and despite Mike attempting to beat the jaw off with his other hand, the bleeding was untameable and a horrible sight to see. He swallowed down the bile in his throat as he again forced his fist into the side of Foxys jaw, causing the fasten to shift down slightly the way that a bolt came loose. It wasn't much, but it was enough to angle Foxys jaw enough for Mike to practically roll his wrist out, sliding his wrist off of the teeth and cradling it in his hand as he willed himself not to pass out, or scream.

He allowed himself to hold tears in his eyes though, for he was a mortal man and the sight enough was hard to deal with. It was effort to stop himself responding any other way, but he couldn't deal with anyone finding out about this. He had plenty of time to make excuses later. 

With what energy he had left, he made a dazed effort to wipe his blood from Foxys teeth and jaw, petrified that Foxy would take a bite again. But Foxy was still now after finishing his screech, and so Mike made the hastiest effort to hide the blood with his jacket sleeve wiping at it. It wasn't the best cleaning, but it melded in enough with the rust, so it was okay.

It was only when he was carefully hoisting Foxy off of the table with an arm around the animatronics side the way someone would support someone unable to walk properly when the curtains were pulled open, and the owner was stood there, open mouthed but then letting his jaw drop in surprise. Mike slid to a halt, breathing in.

"Mike, what on Earth are you doing back here with Foxy?-- ...Is that blood?"

Mike opened his mouth to speak, "Foxy... gone... found... back here.. taking.. cove..." but then fatigue and pain overcame him and he collapsed, knees buckling and falling under the weight of the animatronic fox.

The stage mingled in with the managers concerned face, the faces appearing of other staff who had heard the commotion, and with the collapsed form of Foxy, swirling around in a blur, before everything once again turned dark. 

Mike wouldn't get used to passing out this often.


	8. A Bite Too Far

The first thing that Mike saw were wires. Lots of wires, all suspended above his head and draped across one another like jungle vines. They were long, gigantic, nothing like the wires typically found at home plugged into appliances. These wires were thicker than suspending beams, which, figured Mike, made them all the heavier. So he decided quickly that staying beneath them was a little too worrying for him right now.

Mike sat up, and almost laid back down again. It was like he'd been hit in the back of the head - there was a droning noise in his mind that wouldn't go away. He closed his eyes again and waited for it to stop, and tried to remember where he was, how he got here. Clearly it wasn't anywhere familiar, which made it all the harder, so he thought backwards rather than forwards. 

In his thoughts, he slowly sat up again as the droning faded, and upon doing so his eyes caught a glimpse of what was his injured arm. It was covered in red, the way it looked when you tipped paint over a rounded object - some of the trickles still visible, even though the blood had hardened and stopped running. They were coming from several indents along his forearm, which were deep enough to be the deepest shade of red when looked into. Mike didn't even want to begin to think about touching them, or wondering how deep the teeth had gone. His arm could still move, which he thought meant it wasn't broken - but then he realised that it would be impossible to move his arm so much in reality without it hurting.

The sound of an intercom screech suddenly filled the void he was sat in, and Mike brought his hands up to his ears to block out the vile static noise with an annoyed groan of pain. The scratching on the intercom lasted a few minutes, meaning Mike moved and replaced his hands on his ears several times before concluding it was safe to actually listen to what the intercom was undoubtedly going to say.

A cold feeling washed over him and walked shivers down his spinal cord when he heard the unmistakable sound of the previous employee, calling out into the intercom 'Hello? Hello?'. Mike wasn't reassured by the voice - after all, his first week had quickly concluded this mans fate and if he was in a place that wasn't reality then it was hopeless to even bother responding. And sure enough, the voice went on with the message that he'd heard the first night. Mike contemplated it being a memory, but couldn't pinpoint where or why it would actually come back to him like this.

Instead, Mike focused on what had happened to him. He remembered being backstage, because the noise had caught him out mid-rip of the animatronic parts. But then what had happened? Someone had done something to stop him further..

But Mike struggled, and concluded that someone must have done it in order for him to panic like that. It was no struggle to remember the second part, however - the marks in his arm had reminded him of that. But why did he do it? Why did he do such a stupid thing?

He'd heard Freddy starting up, and panicked into thinking the restaurant was opening up for the children. Which was a problem for Mike, who couldn't move Foxy infront of the children since Foxy was supposed to be in the out of order curtains. But that hadn't been the problem. If Foxy had screeched, he would have definitely been caught - which did happen due to his stupidity. But he wasn't a stupid person when it came to how the sound came out. After all, the screech only happened when the mouth was opened, right? Foxys mouth snapped open and shut before and not a sound came out. But whenever he did screech, or make his tune, the endoskeletons teeth inside moved to produce the sound. Which was why he'd automatically gone to shut it off, thinking that Foxy wouldn't be able to close his jaw while screaming. But he'd been oh so wrong. It was lucky his arm wasn't gone - these teeth were apparently responsible for doing so much worse.

Mike let his thoughts trail off with the sound of the employees final 'goodnight', and slowly got to his feet. He hadn't woken up yet, so he was stuck here in his own thoughts doing nothing. Which scared him more than anything - when he awoke, he could be dead or fired or worse, and the unknowing terrified him. He'd just wanted to work somewhere he knew how to handle the animatronics - somewhere he could take it easy, somewhat. With lights, cameras, doors, it was all in all a little relaxing since he wasn't exactly running for his life. Then again, the constant threat of getting stuffed in a suit was there. But not anymore!

If he survived this, and survived the managers wrath, then he'd be fine! That suit was perfectly fit for being stuffed into now! He could relax here! ... Right?

Mike looked around uneasily, running his eyes across his surroundings and eventually landing them on an odd shape on the floor. Being a cautious - and naturally cowardly - man, he didn't move for fear of it being much more than something discarded. But then again, what could hurt him now? He wasn't even in physical existence right now - heck, he had arm punctures that felt like nothing. He'd be fine. Or so he told himself.

Mike approached it slowly, and despite the self-reassuring words he couldn't calm himself enough. Upon closer inspection, it was a hat - a little bowler hat, tipped on the brim so it was almost like it had just been thrown off. It was so small that it probably wouldn't fit a child - perhaps a baby, but not a child and certainly not an adult. 

He dipped down to look at it closer, reaching out to pick it up by the brim. As soon as he touched it, something forced him to look up - it was an automatic movement that he'd never intended to do, as he was far too curious about the hat.

He came face to face with two deep, black eyes, submerged in a golden metallic shell. The eyes bore into his mind and Mikes mouth dropped open, gasping out as he tried to scream. The pure feeling of seeing this monstrosity terrified him, and he turned to run, but found he couldn't move. The golden bear held his mind in his hands, and slowly broke it into pieces.

The first thing Mike heard when he awoke was the distant sound of the animatronics singing. Nothing like the terrifying noises they produced at night - simply child-friendly songs that would be expected to be played at a childrens birthday party. It was faint - obviously a long way off, but it told him that he hadn't left the pizzeria.

Mike slowly cracked open his eyes and squinted in the slight darkness of the office, as its position in the building held it out of daylight and the lights were off. The only light was coming from outside in the halls, which were lit up for children to find their way to the restroom. He could hear children walking around the dining area, too - the squeak of chairs, the banter, and the general affection noises towards the animatronics and their music. Mike was too scared to move his injured arm, so he moved his other arm and used it to slowly prop himself up, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth to suppress a yawn. He hadn't slept after his shift, so since he'd passed out it had been a long time rather than a short one like last time. It explained why the pizzeria was open now, anyway.

Cautiously, he lifted his injured arm, rolling up the jacket sleeve carefully. It was a surprise in a place like this to find his arm wrapped up in linen bandages and held together firmly. He hadn't been given a sling but then again getting a sling on him would've been a problem. He didn't think he'd need one, anyway. 

It was tempting to touch his arm to see if it still hurt, but he didn't want to provoke another fainting session and so Mike instead got to his feet. He'd been settled into the chair he sat in when he worked since there hadn't been any other place to put him, he assumed, and so his body almost unfurled from the position it had been slumped in. He ached all over from the uncomfortable sleeping position but the more he moved, the more his body stopped the muscles being a pain. 

He wasn't sure where to go or what to do, and he couldn't see any other staff nearby. They really hadn't been lying about the medical tending in the contract, then. It wasn't the best but considering he hadn't bled to death he felt a little grateful.

As he approached the right door, Mike heard voices coming from the kitchen, which was a little further along. Luckily all of the children were now in the dining area and he didn't have to worry about hurrying along. He couldn't even bring himself to look at the posters on the walls - the sight of the animatronics wasn't something he wanted right now, in paper form or in physical form.

He pushed open the door to the kitchen, instantly being hit with the smell of cooking pizza and a variety of different scents from the other menu offers. For a pizzeria, they'd certainly had enough fussy eaters to provide something more than pizza, thankfully.

Across the kitchen stood the manager and one of the stage workers, clearly deep in conversation and stood as far from the steam as possible. The manager was literally leaning away from it as though if the steam touched him it would ruin his suit. Had it not sounded like an important conversation, Mike would have been amused. He hadn't seen the manager so prim and proper like that before. How amusing it was that the manager tried to seem so business-like to other workers but was in reality a really grumpy guy.

Mike approached the two, not wanting to break their conversation, but he slowed down when he heard the topic. Moving carefully around the kitchen table and pretending to be looking at the menu.

"You don't think he'll sue?"

"Of course not - it was an accident and it wasn't our fault. If anything, it was his own. No one is stupid enough to put their hand in the animatronics mouth - especially the one animatronic thats supposed to be out of order."

"What was he doing backstage?"

"Mike? Well, he was with Foxy when I found him. Perhaps he'd lost sight of him and was taking him back, who knows. Anything else would be against the contracts rules. I'll ask him when he wakes up."

"But what was Foxy doing there if no one moved him?"

"Nevermind about that. I'm more concerned that we may lose our security guard - this guy has handled over a week. Usually I wouldn't worry about them dropping off like flies if it means I wouldn't have to pay them, but its a lot more weight off my shoulders if we have someone with experience."

"Surely he'll need to go to the hospital - for stitches."

"He can do it in the day. We've done what we can with the injury and if it gets worse he'll have to sort it out. The contract states that--"

"--That we are not held accountable for injuries being of the injured persons fault."

"Exactly."

Mike turned his head away in order to clear his lungs, finding that standing by the steam wasn't the best idea. He managed not to cough - which would have definitely have blown his cover - but spent most of the moment trying to breathe again. By the time he'd regained focus, the conversation had moved on.

"--Back to the cove. Had to shut him down entirely."

"He shouldn't be activated anyway."

"We need to keep his parts active. They could be useful in an emergency. If one of our stage animatronics has an error that needs a replaced part, Foxy will have it. And we'll know it works."

"I don't think others will see it that way."

"Which is why I've made my decision on what to do with him."

"Decision, sir?"

Mike leant a bit closer to listen in, trying to ignore the fact that the steam was making his eyes water.

"To remove Pirate Cove entirely."


	9. One To One

Mike didn't know how or when he managed to get away from the manager and out of the kitchen, let alone all the way back to the stage. There was no fear in him left to be paranoid about the animatronics on the stage, who stood motionless behind him, and so he made himself comfortable on the edge, cradling his arm and delving back into thought about what he'd heard the others discussing.

They were considering closing Pirate Cove down entirely? Removing the cove itself, removing Foxy, removing everything. Even thought Pirate Cove had been inactive for several years, it was still kept as a main storage area, as well as a containment room for the animatronic fox, despite the fact that said fox managed to constantly escape. Sure, it would mean one less animatronic to deal with, but...

What then?

Without Foxy he'd have the entire place on lockdown. No worries about Bonnie or Chica, who could be caught out quickly. Freddy would still remain a problem but at least he wouldn't be hopping between Freddy and Foxy with fear that one of them was coming for him at any second. Freddys inactivity could be held while he was in view of a security camera, so even then it would be simple to monitor the animatronic bear while dealing with the lights and doors. 

Mike was perfectly aware of what it would mean to lose the animatronic fox that constantly hounded at his door nearly every night, but... where would the excitement be if the challenge was gone?

Was that all it was anymore? Excitement? 

Without a doubt. Something clicked in him when he got to work every night - something other than fear, which he tamed with his confidence. He felt almost excited to deal with the four of them, like it really was a game, preventing them from getting to him. It was, in a way, what a lot of people wanted to do - be inside a horror game and still feel confident. It wasn't like he was starting over and knew nothing. He knew it all now, and it would go to waste if he grew idle. Heck, if the place was going to shut down in a few months, why bother closing the Cove now?

Mike didn't have the guts to sue the Pizzeria. He'd be out of the job then and he'd be worse off. He'd been in scrapes before - fond memories of the playground rough-and-tumble, dealing with bullies and trying to look cool but actually looking ridiculously dorky. Sure, he'd never had an animatronic fox sink its teeth into his forearm before now, but in a way, it reminded him of what was at stake. And there was no greater thrill than this. It was like a rollercoaster, in a way - the climb up the rails, and the drop down that gave him a rush of excitement. Even though he knew he'd have to have his arm checked, he couldn't sue the place.

Or well. If it did go to shit, he would just so he could go out with a bang.

Mike was too wound up in his thoughts to notice the manager leaving the kitchen, standing on the other side of the dining area and looking at him on the stage. Unfortunately, the sight of the injured security guard sitting on the stage with his head drooped gave the manager the entirely wrong impression, and his approach was almost the opposite of what was on Mikes mind. 

Mike almost jumped when he heard the noise of something being pushed towards him, and he glanced down at the small box of pizza. He looked up at the manager as he slowly went to take it, prying the lid open and pulling a slice out.

"Freshly made," The manager said, settling down on the stage next to Mike, in front of Chica. "They needed an excuse to warm up the place. Hell, you've been here a while too. You could use a bite to eat."

Mike mumbled his thanks as he took a bite from the first slice, putting the box back down next to him as he leant back on the stage. It was a bit nerving doing so because he was aware it was Freddy behind him, but he didn't come into contact with the bear and so he relaxed.

"Thought you'd be asleep for the whole day. Night shifts are pretty tough, especially here - and especially after that chomp you took."

"Thats what you're here to ask for, isn't it?" Mike replied instantly, looking up at the manager. It wasn't a surprise to know that the manager was going to worm his way into this horrible discussion as soon as possible. The manager opened his mouth, closed it, and scratched his chin.

"I'm only doing so for the sake of the contracts rules, Schmidt. Calm down. You want to explain how that happened?"

Mike didn't really want to talk about it. Really, really didn't. So he figured he'd revise a shorter version - naturally leaving out any mention of the suit he'd been prying apart.

"I went into the cove like you asked, and saw that Foxy was missing. Usually you can see him leaning out, and he wasn't, so I came looking. And he was back here. It took a while to find him, you know, so when I heard Freddy playing that music, I thought the kids were showing up. And Foxy- well, Foxy sort of.. woke up. I don't know how or why, but he woke up and started screeching and I tried to shut him up just in case there were kids here, but I didn't think and-"

"And he got you," The manager concluded, casually helping himself to a slice of the pizza he'd given Mike, "You're lucky he didn't take off your arm, you know. Those teeth used to be a bit of a bruise-giver back in the day. Or remover, if you lost the limb."

"It wasn't his fault," Mike said quickly, though he realised his fault in saying such a thing very soon after. The manager swallowed his mouthful of pizza and cocked an eyebrow. 

"Wasn't whose fault?"

"Foxys. I made a mistake, you know? I mean, I didn't think he'd do that. So I'm not going to sue - just, don't fire me?" Mike didn't like sounding so desperate but he needed to keep ahold of the job for as long as possible. The manager didn't respond to that, briefly flicking his eyes down to Mikes bandaged arm and back up again.

"I don't think you're capable of working in such a condition, Schmidt. Take some time off for a few days and we'll see how you are when you get back."

"But sir--"

"Yes, yes, I know. 'What about the animatronics?' They can remain off for now. Its a hard price to pay but we could use the downtime anyway." The manager took this time to stand back up, helping himself to a second slice and waving it a little in Mikes direction. "Call us when you're feeling up to continuing, alright?"

Mike made no response as his jaw was dropped, watching the manager turn and walk away from him. His pizza was long forgotten as he fell backwards into his thoughts once again, turning them over like some sort of note that changed writing on every turn. 

'We could use the downtime anyway.'

Why would they give him time off for this? He was fine, he was mobile, and he was actually willing to work. He turned around to look up at the immobile animatronic bear, who was standing poised with his microphone as though he were about to burst into song at any moment. From this angle, the three band members looked almost charming - peaceful and not the sort of animatronics to spend the night harrassing poor security guards.

It was a shame they weren't better kept. That didn't cost money - that simply costed time and attention. Sure they weren't off stage anymore except at night but surely someone had to clean them up. Especially after that blood incident. Then again, no one bothered to clean Foxys mouth off either after he tore into that kids skull.

'We could use the downtime anyway.'

Mike stood up infront of the band, eye to eye with Freddy as he took the moment to just stare at the animatronic bear. It wasn't often he was this close to Freddy, nor was he able to be so close while he was immobile. Luckily the rust and blood didn't cause as much change to Freddy as it did to animatronics like Bonnie and Chica, as it didn't show up very much on the gritty brown-coloured shell.

'We could use the downtime anyway.'

Mikes eyes fell upon a particularly odd shape on top of Freddys face. It was barely noticable from a distance, but up close, he could easily line it out. As such, he managed to identify the shape as what appeared to be a childs handprint.

'We could use the downtime anyway.'

Too late did Mike connect the dots in what the manager had meant, and his confidence sank back down among his fears.


	10. The Foxy Drawing

Mike leant on the office desk, pencil between his fingers as it twirled around his middle finger with idle boredom. It was a Monday night, the tamest night of the week for him, so aside from the occasional flick of the left lights, there really wasn't much for him to do. Foxys absence proved to be more effective than he'd thought - keeping Bonnie and Chica out was so simple. Foxy was no longer needed to be checked on so it was only on Thursday when Freddy began moving did things really heat up.

Mike had only taken a few days off due to the fact that he needed the money and the manager had never confirmed that it would be unpaid time off. He'd be bored otherwise, and the realisation of what the manager had meant when considering the animatronics. He hadn't done much research into what had happened before but it wasn't unheard of for the place to shut down due to injury or dismemberment. 

Mike dropped his pencil. It rolled across the pad and clattered onto the floor. The sound echoed around the empty office room and it gave solid indication that Bonnie and Chica were not nearby. In confirmation upon checking, Mike was rather stunned to see no one had moved at all. Usually by now, at least Bonnie was off the stage, but it was late in the night and no such thing had happened. It was suspicious, but with a lot on his mind, Mike was grateful for the peace.

He leant down to pick up the pencil, accidentally knocking the pad off of the desk and sending it spiralling down among the dust. He grumbled at the clumsiness and went to pick it back up too, when he stopped to see a slip of paper beginning to escape between the pads pages. He'd never seen it before. Then again, it was just a pad he'd found lying around in one of the office drawers. 

He extracted the piece of paper carefully from between its pages and turned it over in his hands, unfolding it so it was at its full size. It was a mess of notes, more than anything - names of animatronics here and there, little doodles in the margins, and paragraphs of analytic notes regarding animatronic movement. It was only when he began to properly read it in his boredom that he recognised where he'd heard these exact words before.

On the phone.

It was word for word correct, and it stunned him to see it written down like this just as informally as it had been spoken. How long had the guy on the phone rehearsed this? Why had he been so keen? What was with all the little doodles? Did he really sit and analyse them as they moved around?

Mikes eyes continued to follow the words down, tracing each line with the tip of his finger, until he reached the fourth paragraph. It wasn't cut off as it had been on the phone - the paragraph was still intact, without any sign of indicating that it was cut off while being written sharply. No, it continued on, but less panicked as it had sounded on the phone. But still, he could read it, and hear it in his head the exact way he could imagine the guy on the phone reading it would sound.

'I think they might.. be keeping some suits spare, y'know, just in case... I don't know. I hear rumors still, a-and the parents recently have been complaining... about the smell. Yeah, I don't really smell them either, but with all the disappearances... I-I'm not sure how this is going to play out. They're getting more active, and I-I think something is wrong with them. Freddy doesn't usually move much, y'know? Uh.. I think hes... got something wrong with him. I'll have to get him checked out, uh, before next week. His eyes--- they just vanish. But y-you can always see the endoskeleton lights, right? So, uh, don't get too worried about him vanishing on you. I don't have much more time to record, so.. keep an eye on him, and, uh, on the Cove too. Alright, goodnight.'

Mike already knew about Freddy and his inverting eyes, and especially the pattern he followed once he actually moved. But the rest of the commentary was of interest to him. The smell.. the smell from the suits? Like on the clipping? Personally, it hadn't really been noticable until he was up close to the animatronics like he had been once on the stage. And they were getting more active? When? Was that before Mike had been employed, or after? Was this going to end in tears?

For the children, certainly. The managers words 'use the downtime' when commenting on powering down the animatronics for a while indicated more than he had said. There'd been rumors of the place closing down, and with what the manager had said, it was almost a confirmation that it was inevitably going to happen. They could 'use the downtime' because they were going to shut down anyway. The pizzeria was, to say, fucked.

Mike didn't really want to protest for anything more than the fact he'd be out of a job, but there was something about the animatronics. It wasn't that they were innocent - oh, god, they were far from it - and it wasn't favouritism. It was justice. Something had happened in the pizzeria and shutting it down didn't do justice to the ones who were murdered and forgotten here. But what could Mike do? It was a matter of just waiting for something to happen - he couldn't enforce anything with the animatronics.

He went to fold the paper back up, and stopped. Something was on the back. Something crudely drawn. He turned the paper over slowly and smoothed it out.

It was a very impressive drawing of Foxy, leaning out of the cove. Drawing Foxy on the nightshift would've been hard, so getting him drawn like this was probably the safest route for the guy on the phone to take. It was almost identical to Mikes memory of Foxy leaning out of the cove, though - it was artistic, and very well drawn. And just.. left here. 

At the bottom of the drawing, read the words 'Foxy the Pirate - Always my favourite!'

Clearly the guy on the phone liked Foxy. Mike himself had never seen Foxy actually work like he should have, but if the guy on the phone was fond of Foxy like this, then it must have been entertaining at least. Mike kept his eyes on the drawing for a second, before sitting up just enough to pin the drawing next to the Freddy Band poster. They were missing a member, after all.

Mike needed to try and lay low about his case when he was bitten. It was his own fault, nothing else. But maybe the pizzeria was down to needing popularity - more income, more entertainment, more ways to keep the characters going. Because these characters were so many peoples childhood and to take them away on sanitation and malfunction issues was robbing them of their childhoods. So what if he was at risk every night? He earned his money, he earned a thrill that only horror movies had ever given him, and he was keeping up to the guy on the phones final words. He was not about to give up his job because of a stupid bite.

He picked up the pencil, and began writing.

The Foxy drawing fluttered a little in the breeze of the fan, and it angled so it looked like it was watching the nightguard at work. And, in a way.

It was like the guy on the phone was watching him too.


	11. Mission Mike-possible

Nothing changed in the week that followed. It was as silent as ever for Mike, who, while still tirelessly fought off the three band animatronics night after night, was still hard at work trying to develop his idea. Naturally it was a stupid idea for him to believe he could accomplish anything simply because he was the nightguard and didn't have much of a role in the pizzeria itself, but he felt that maybe contributing a little would persuade some minds and turn some heads, at the very least. 

He wasn't about to pretend to be brave, or smart, or remotely fearless. He was still terrified of what would happen if he was caught by the animatronics again. His suit idea wasn't perfect and the last time he'd been stuffed into it it had been a painful experience to live through - surely death would have been far more painless than that. But he wasn't about to start trying to act like he wasn't. He was still cowardly, but he was acting on instinct to survive the nights, nothing more.

From time to time he did think about the phone guy, about what had happened to him. He was scared of ending up the same way, of being stuffed into a suit with a skeleton in it already. Death scared him. He looked it in the eyes night after night, and even though he got a thrill like someone watching a horror movie, it was still a glance into a way of dying. He knew they could kill him in an instant, and he wasn't about to let it happen. He was at the least going to make it.

The fact that Foxy wasn't active made it easier for him, but he still felt a twinge of guilt about getting the fox shut down like that. The phone guys drawing was still pinned up on the wall and it seemed to always be looking at him, urging him to act and save this last bit of his friends memory. Were they friends? Mike could only think so - this man had saved his life and died in the process, so he wanted to do something to avenge him. But nothing too ridiculously dangerous.

He'd written a fair share of ideas that had come to mind down. But the main one would need the main animatronics to not move for a short while. The perfect time for it would be on Monday, when they were barely active until three hours had passed. Three hours was plenty of time for Mike to do what he needed to do. 

He just didn't pluck up the courage until the second week of December. The night was incredibly cold and so the manager didn't bother to ask why Mike was reluctant to talk. The office was warm enough and so when Mike passed by the manager on his way to the office, the manager presumed that the cold and teeth-chattering were distracting Mike from greeting him. 

What was the truth, in fact, was that Mikes nerves were plucking up. This would either go well or be suicidal. Either way the company was going down, and there was no way of stopping it. But then, surely, the animatronics deserved their last performance to be a good one? 

Mike didn't move until he heard the manager shut the entrance up, jangling the keys in the lock to effectively lock Mike in. The first night he'd been there it had terrified him to know he'd been locked in, but now, he disregarded it. If he was going to die, he was going to die. Running for the door was a stupid move to do even if it was a chance. No one wanted the animatronics on the streets.

As soon as the manager had left, Mike got to his feet, tucking his camera under his arm and using the last few precious minutes of light to make his way down the west hall towards the showstage. The animatronics were motionless, but their eyes followed Mike as he turned the corner into Pirates Cove. Mike ignored them, either not noticing the moving eyes or not caring to make eye contact.

He pulled back the curtain to find Foxy, as he'd been informed, deactivated. If possible, the animatronic fox looked worse without his servos working properly. The cold was having an effect on the joints, which were visibly rusting up a bit more around the legs due to the fact that they did not have a suit covering them. While he had a few minutes to midnight left, Mike took advantage and tested to see if Foxy was fixed in place to stop him moving. 

Fortunately, either due to weight or due to management doing something right for once, he was. He didn't move an inch as Mike risked as much strength as he dared to shake the fox back and forth a bit. His still tingly-pained ankle squealed a bit but he ignored it, feeling relieved that the fox wasn't about to start activating.

Mike stepped off of the coves stage and made his way over to the main stage, knowing that these three were capable of moving at any time. They weren't supposed to but sometimes they tended to catch him off guard. It was why Mike chose to move to Bonnie rather than Freddy or Chica - Bonnie was nearly always first to move and if he was busy checking Chica or Freddy then Bonnie had a higher chance of catching him out.

He wasn't an expert at technology when it came to animatronics, so he did what any other person would do - he opened up Bonnies mechanism, took a look at what he was set to during the day time, and fumbled with the camera he had brought in his pocket to snap a photo of the settings. He wouldn't be able to remember any of it, so taking a photo was the most local response to actually memorizing what the settings were. The camera shuddered, and spat out the photo for him to grab onto.

It was only when he was shutting up the back of the animatronic did he feel the endoskeleton shudder, and it was then that he panicked, heart pulsing as he backed away slowly. Bonnie was active now, and it had been the darn cameras flash that had set him off. Quickly, Mike hopped off of the stage, biting back a pained noise as he ran to hide in the only place he knew they wouldn't go - the cove curtains.

Foxy was still inactive, but it didn't stop Mike from hiding behind him as he froze, heart pounding. He could hear the animatronics moving - twitching on the stage, and then a thud as Bonnie left. He checked his watch. It was too early for Bonnie to be moving. This was not going well.

Mike shoved the camera back into his pocket and put the photo between his teeth as he fumbled to undo the back of Foxys suit, swatting the cobwebs aside inside so he could squint at the settings. It occurred to him that he did have a light source that could work, and untucking the tablet from under his arm, he set the camera to Pirates Cove and shone the light on the settings panel.

A spider scuttled away as Mike held the tablet with one hand, using his other hand to fiddle with the settings, and going crosseyed to see what was set on the photo. At any moment, he knew that Foxy could accidentally activate, and it was fear that drove him to work even faster to finish what he was doing so he could escape.

Bonnie was still moving around - the shadow passing the curtain and the heavy footfalls told him that Bonnie was approaching the west hall. It only occurred to Mike then that Bonnie would find the office empty and cause a stir, and, in a moment of insanity, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the camera, and threw it as far as he could across the dining area.

He went to return to fixing the settings, but stopped to see if it worked, at least. Bonnie stopped where he stood in the west hallway, ears pricking up and suit turning around to see where the noise had come from. Fortunately, after a split second of staring, the rabbit began to move backwards, buying Mike more time.

He was so close to being finished when he heard the footfalls again, freezing up and ducking behind Foxy. But this time, instead of moving past, the shadow stopped infront of him. 

He held his breath.

Clung onto the fox in the hopes it would hide him.

The curtain moved and opened, and Bonnie was staring in at him, eyes illuminated and mouth ajar.

There was nowhere to run.


	12. Not Really An Endoskeleton

Mike was not a man of great courage. It took all of his guts to stop himself from giving himself away to the bunny by inhaling and exhaling in a respiratory panic. Bonnie was scarcely fooled by darkness and was one of the few who really took it upon himself to move in it. There was no way he wouldn't be caught if he slipped up even a little.  
So he did his best not to. Hung onto Foxys endoskeleton, held his breath.  
Waited.  
Though Mikes eyes couldn't see from his hiding spot, Bonnies eyes were running over the fox, and the rabbit was motionless. Surely he'd seen something on his way down the west hall. But Foxy was immobile.  
The animatronic was not programmed to think too deeply behind this sort of mishap, and after staring at the fox for a while, eventually turned to move on. Fortunately, he hadn't noticed the fingers hanging onto the foxes torso, or maybe he had? Perhaps he'd mistaken it for a part of Foxy. Either way, he was leaving.  
Mike couldn't afford to keep himself where he was for much longer. It was dangerous enough being in the same room as all of them at once - something that hadn't even happened in the office before. He had four of them all waiting to catch him - even if they weren't moving.  
Quickly he fumbled with Foxys back, prying at the cables and cursing softly. Bonnie would be the only one active for now but the worst part on Mondays was that fact that there was always a chance Chica would move, or Bonnie would come back. He was terrified Bonnie would find the office empty and break out, so working fast was the only thing he could do.  
It was either that or bait himself, and then what?  
Mike fumbled around with the polaroid picture a little more as he tried to keep himself focused. He didn't know if, in using Bonnies settings, Foxy would inadvertently take up the rabbits pattern, but one thing Mike made himself sure of was the daytime programming and AI setting. He couldn't let Foxy activate in the day the way the band did. It would be a terrifying experience.  
He was almost finished when the power died - and he cursed. Loudly. He'd left his tablet on constantly and it had swallowed up the power too rapidly. Bonnie had stopped moving audibly, and the hair on the back of Mikes neck stood up in realisation of what was about to happen. He quickly slid the polaroid in his pocket and forced the back of the suit back onto Foxy, not caring that the settings weren't fully changed but glad that he'd made the effort and not pussied out like he would have done if he'd had the choice sooner.  
Footsteps again.  
Mike didn't know what Freddy would do if he found the office empty, but the likelyhood was that Freddy would not be a jolly bear about it. So despite how suicidal it was, he slid out from between the curtains and ran down the hallway, tripping over trash in the dark and scrambling at the doorframe to find his way back into the office. Bonnie hadn't been in the hallway, to his fortune, which meant the bunny had deactivated himself inside the closet. Poor janitor would have a heart attack.  
Mike curled up in his chair, held his tablet to his chest, and willed himself to not be noticed. No fool Freddy, though. It was only as he realised this that the words of the phone guy fell into place in the jigsaw frame of his mind. They knew he wasn't an endoskeleton. How could've he fallen for that?  
The backroom was lined with endoskeletons - some fully constructed for emergency replacements, some simply parts. But they were there, and Mike had seen them when he'd been backstage fumbling with the suit. So why did they go ignored if the animatronics were programmed to have a 'rule' about the endoskeletons? And why did they have that rule programmed into them if there were only four animatronics to begin with? They knew he wasn't an endoskeleton. And that was why Freddy, despite the power failure, came to his door, and scared him shitless. They all knew he was a human being, a guard, a watchman. They only ever attacked guards - workers.  
But if they weren't programmed to stuff endoskeletons, what were they?  
His mind cast back to the articles on the walls. Perhaps they thought he was dangerous. He was forcing them away, night after night, practically trapping them to the halls when they were simply doing what came naturally. But surely this couldn't be a case of the supernatural.  
Supernatural beings were for movies and books, right?  
Mike was cut off from his thoughts as the illuminated face of Freddy appeared in the doorway. Staring him down with blue eyes, tinkling his toreador tune in a taunt towards the poor security guard. A way of saying 'We've got you'.  
There was no escaping this now. He couldn't do anything, and if he moved, he'd be forced back into that suit. It wasn't full of death but it was painful, and he didn't want to go through it with again. There was that chance he'd be stuffed into another one.  
The last thing Mike thought of before the tune faded was the guy on the phone. Of his advice. Searching for that final piece of help.  
'Try playing dead'. Sure, he said it didn't work when they thought he was a suit - but if they knew he wasn't an endoskeleton, what led them to be convinced he was a suit?  
Mike only had the time to sit back and squeeze his eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to evaporate. He could hear the footsteps in his direction.  
The world spun, and Freddy pounced.


End file.
